Paris, Paris...

It was my first visit to Paris, and of course I had to start somewhere, so I figured why not with all of the traditional tourist attractions?

Let’s see, there was the Arc de Triomphe (bigger than I had imagined), the Louvre (putting my meager art history education to use!), Notre Dame (imposing architecture on the outside, really dark on the inside, and gorgeous stained glass), a stroll down the Champs Elysees to lécher les vitrines, which is the funny French phrase for window shopping. The literal translation is “to lick the windows.”

Everything was great. But I do have some regrets, first and foremost with FASHION.

When I was packing my suitcase, I was aiming for practicality. Bad thinking. What I completely forgot that--hello! I was going to Paris!--A parisienne would never wear a windbreaker… sacre bleu! I felt when I was walking down the street it practically screamed, “I’m American!” Or that whenever I went into a shop, the salespeople automatically identified me, touriste. Okay, granted, I could have taken it off, but then I would have been cold and uncomfortable and…wind-bitten. So in some ways I embraced the fact that yes, I was indeed, a tourist. (Like when I awkwardly turned around in the middle of a street after realizing that I was heading in the wrong direction of where I wanted to go, I thought, “Oh well! It’s okay, I’m a tourist!”) And for example it was kind of fun to see the look of surprise on some people’s faces when they realized that contrary to my outsider appearance, my knowledge of the French language expands outside of the phrases found in guidebooks. At the big attractions, I didn’t particularly stick out in comparison to the camera-toting, polar-fleece-wearing, white-sneakered tourists. But in other parts of town I didn’t exactly want to look like an easy victim, so to try to make up for it I emphasized my scarf, tying it around my neck in the fanciest French manner I could muster.

I am happy to say that Paris was even better than I had expected it to be, because I have heard of a lot of people who come to the city with high hopes and end up leaving disappointed. But the city did offer me some SURPRISES; some good, some bad, and some in-between.

One was how many other tourists there are in the city. I knew there were going to be a lot, but not exactly that much. It’s kind of crazy, because the Louvre is overwhelming e-nor-mous. And yet with everyone else milling about, I felt quite claustrophobic. When I finally got to see the Mona Lisa face-to-face, it was like getting a glimpse of a Hollywood celebrity. The enormous crowds of jostling people were like paparazzi trying to steal a snapshot.

The highlight of my Parisian food experience? In fact, not with the quintessential baguette or croissant. Rather, it was found in my first bite ever of falafel in the quartier du Marais—warm pita bread with a slightly gooey interior, raw crunchy cut-up veggies, fried balls of falafel, and “special spicy sauce” (that’s what they actually called it!) on top.

The Eiffel Tower, too, at night was a little different than I had expected it. They’ve rigged it up with these multi-colored lights that blink and alternate in all sorts of ways—which gives it a kind of cheesy grandeur, different from the romantic emblem I always had in mind. Aside from that, well, the city is gorgeous in daylight. So at night, it becomes magical, with all the streets and sights illuminated and shimmering in the water of the Seine.

To get from Paris to Geneva I took le TGV, which stands for “Train a Grande Vitesse.” It was a bit of a disappointment because I was expecting what the name suggests: to achieve speeds of grand vitesse, and that was not the case. Nonetheless, it was agreeable to watch the French countryside pass by, despite the lack of whoosh or whizz involved.

A funny coincidence: I was sitting at a cozy café, writing my postcards to home, when all of a sudden I look up and who do I see but D (my host dad’s) 21-year old son from a previous marriage, who lives as a student in Paris. Given the city’s grand immensity, I’m pretty sure it was very statistically unlikely that our paths should accidentally cross. Because we had met only briefly before, he didn’t recognize me at first, and guessed that we had a class together, until I explained—oh yeah!—I’m the au pair. I guess it just goes to show, dare I say it? It’s a small world after all.

So I saw a lot of Paris. Yet there is so much more than I didn’t see. Which is exactly why I can’t wait to go again!














La Jaconde













Action shot: receiving my falafel (yes, I surreptitiously snapped a photo while reaching out to grab it from the guy)













Underbelly of the Eiffel Tower at night

[It was cloudy the whole time I was there, so all of my photos have a grayish tinge to them. C'est dommage.]

Luge d'Été

Coming back from glorious Paris, I figured why not experience the very best of what my home French region has to offer? Which, of course, would be MOUNTAINS.

And so it was that I experienced the French-style roller coaster known as luge d’été, or “summer sledding” (sans the snow). Two person per one seat, so I was with Ar the whole time. It was pretty much this: we mounted steeply to the top of a mountain, strapped into a sled-contraption attached to metal rails, and then descended downwards (with plenty of curves thrown in for good measure).

To be honest, I’m pretty sure most real roller coaster aficionados would proclaim it to be completely lame and pathetic, but for me (and Ar who was right beside me), it was quite the thrill. Maybe a bit too much so for Ar, as I, for one, love SPEEEEED, and it was also me who controlled the lever to slow down….which I didn’t do too much of, even when we were at the hairpin turns. The whole time Ar was squeaking, “Ali! Stop! Break!” while I pretended that I couldn’t hear. But no worries, she is hardly scarred for life, as afterwards I saw a look on her face of ravished contentment from all the adrenaline-filled excitement.















Climbing upwards (that would be Ar's pink-speckled hat in the foreground)

My Halloween in France

In previous years I was hardly grateful or appreciative of Halloween. It was something I took for granted. Although in France some of the traditions of the holiday are gaining popularity, it is all still very foreign to them in general. When I explained to the girls how every year as a kid I had gone from house to house in my neighborhood getting candy, dressed up in a costume, saying “Trick or treat!,” their eyes were wide-open in amazement. “Really?” When I talked to the their grandmother (a native Parisian, born and bred) about the concept of Halloween, she was disdainful; “trop commerciale,” she decried. If I was living in the US I would have agreed. But being abroad has made me nostalgic for the fun-hearted traditions and celebrations of good old Americana.

So we decided to throw our very own Halloween party. That is, we decorated the house and then the girls had all their friends over for an afternoon.

The preparations the day before were quite the affair: we baked spice cookies in the shape of pumpkins and witches’ hats, and to add something really special to all the other party décor of black and orange streamers and garlands and fake cobwebs…we carved a jack-o-lantern!

In fact, it was the very first time they had done it, so when we finally sawed around the top of the pumpkin and pulled off its hat, they were surprised to see all the guts that were inside. Ar’s reaction was “Déguelasse!” (That’s disgusting!) She retreated over to the next room, complaining that it smelled bad. Her disgust deepened a couple minutes later when she observed me scooping out the seeds with my bare hands. “How can you do that?” she cried; never mind that I had done it ever since I was little.

Luckily we found a book at the town library to use for ideas and inspiration, and that is where we also found our party menu. Here it is, in French, with English translations and explanations following down below. The explanations are important because otherwise it doesn’t sound too appetizing!

MENU des FRISSONS
Menu of Shivers

Entrées

Yeux de Chauves-Souris Variés
Varied bat eyes
(A mix of black and green olives)

Champignons du Bois des Sorcières
Mushrooms from Witches’ Woods
(Mushrooms)

Plats

Les Vers d’Égout
Worms from the Sewer
(Spaghetti with pesto sauce)

Boulettes de Crapaud au Jus de Vampire
Toad pellets with vampire juice
(Meatballs and tomato sauce)

Desserts

Bave Gelée de Limaces d’Égout
Frozen Slime of Sewer Slugs
(Vanilla ice cream)

Crottes de Chauve-souris Momifiées
Mummified bat droppings
(Chocolate fudge sauce)

Our pumpkin in progress

These are a few of my favorite things...

Favorite pastry: Pain au chocolat.

Granted, croissants are good by themselves. I mean, put lots of butter with anything and chances are the taste buds are going to be happy to eat it…Hence the classic French cooking rule-of-thumb that you can never have enough butter. But for me, add in some CHOCOLATE, and then you have the next thing to heaven.

Favorite cheese: Roquefort.

I love the pungent, knock-out flavor. Never mind that there are blueish green fuzzy dots within it, which look exactly like the mold growing on the stale bread in the refrigerator…

Favorite paysage: The view from my bedroom window.

We’re elevated up on the mountainside, so when I look out down below at night, I see the lights of Geneva and the surrounding area, sparkling and twinkling. The pinpoint-sized pools of light are like an exaggerated mimicry/magnified reflection of the stars above. Environmentally-inclined folks would reject it as mere light pollution, but I admire it each night when I close the shutters to my windows. I usually find a grand blinking light making a steady trajectory amidst the stars, coming from an airplane departing from the airport.

In fact, the vista gives a certain rhythm to my days. After getting out of bed each morning, I open up the shutters to let in some light and take a breath of fresh air. On cloudless days, I see Mont Blanc—the highest mountain in Europe—looming out in the distance. It makes for a spectacular sunrise if I wake up early enough, when the whole scene soaks in blends of blue, orange, and pink from the sky.